They get up late for boarding the train to King's Cross, both because it's stupidly early right now and because of the end of year party last night.

All five boys in the room are scrambling around shoving everything into their trunks. James knows for a fact that half of his shit is with Remus and the other half is with Sirius, so James will basically be packing their stuff into his own trunk and they'll just have to sort it out later and owl everything back and forth.

"Help," James whines, sitting back on his calves in his bed, patting around the covers for like fucking ten minutes now because he can't find his glasses and he checked the floor – they're not there.

"Just accio them," Sirius snaps, kneeling on his trunk to force it shut.

"I don't know where my wand is either," James complains, panicking because he's barely dressed and he hasn't started packing half the stuff. "Guys, come on, I'm blind. Like I genuinely can't see shit right now."

Remus storms over and picks up James glasses, literally ten centimetres from his foot, and puts it on James' face before picking up James' wand, half buried under the pillow that he threw at the foot of the bed to check the rest of the mattress.

"I love you," James says solemnly as Remus heads back to packing.

James then uses a time-restricted transfiguration spell to gather all his things piled on the floor into handkerchiefs, tosses them into his trunk and shuts it with a satisfying bang. He puts his hands on his hips and smiles because when it transforms back it'll be absolute chaos but it's all fine for now at least.

"Since when?!" Sirius cries. "No – fuck you, James, you could do that the whole time and you didn't once offer to help me?"

"I was finding my glasses!" James yells back. "Which you didn't help with either so fuck you back!"

The train horn blares, barely heard this far away but still strikes fear into their hearts and everyone is scrambling to drag James over to their pile of trash scattered around.

All their trunks are closed and shrunken with the train about to leave in like twenty minutes so they bolt down the stairs, joining the frantic crowd of other Gryffindors that stream out from the dorms.

The three take a sharp left and shove aside a tapestry, most of the Gryffindors behind them following because everyone knows you can bribe the Marauders for shortcuts so this will definitely get them to the train faster.

There's a poor first year at the back, lugging a full trunk because she doesn't know the shrinking spell yet, and wheezing. "Oh whatever, I'll just stay at Hogwarts the whole summer."

"You can sneak through the floo later!" James calls back over the thudding of feet echoing off the narrow stone walls.

"You said that last time and we still ended up having to ask a random lady in Hogsmeade to apparate us," Sirius tsks, firing back a shrinking spell at the girl's trunk. "Get someone to unshrink that on the platform!"

They sprint down spiral stairs barely big enough for one person and burst out into the courtyard to the sound of another warning whistle from the train. By the time they stagger onto the platform, all the other students who got there at a reasonable time are giggling at them.

James wobbles after Sirius to an empty carriage and just passes out on Remus' lap.

He wakes up halfway through the train ride with far too much energy and starts bouncing around, running through the carriages to say goodbye to everyone for the year and even has an hour left to tease Lily and her friends before he gets chased out.

When they do reach the platform, James jumps down the steps first and immediately spots a large break in the crowd where the Black family stands, blank faced and imposing.

"If you need to bust out, just let me know," James murmurs.

Sirius offers up a smirk. "Don't worry, they've gotten off my back ever since they heard you went Dark."

James laughs. "What, are you serious?"

"Really! They think you'll turn me into a proper Dark Heir," Sirius scoffs. "I'm not telling them otherwise. Quick, leave before they meet you and realise you're still a Light idiot."

James giggles and heads off with his tiny trunk in hand, arm hooked with Remus'. "See you later with Moony, yeah?"

"Yeah, I'll be there!" Sirius calls back and watches them go. Then smile falls off his face and he hefts his own trunk, striding through the crowd.

James and Remus break off soon after when James sees his parents (with Harry!) standing beside a pillar and waving to him. "Bye, Remi, love you lots mwah!"

"If you see bigger Padfoot again, let us know," Remus says with a wave.

James ducks around a family of redheads and barrels into Harry going full speed. "Harry, Harry, Harry!"

Harry leans his weight into it so he doesn't get thrown back. "James, um…we need to talk. At home."

James looks to his parents and see they're solemn and regretful.

"Voldemort is coming by in a week to pick you up," Fleamont admits quietly once they're safely back in Potter Manor.

"It was a possibility," James says, trying to reassure his dad.

"I'm coming with you," Harry tells James.

"Is that…the best idea?" James asks hesitantly.

"James, I will fight the sun for you. If Voldemort hurts you he is going down."

Fleamont cuts in quickly. "Whoa, okay, let's calm down first."

"I agree with Harry," Euphemia states. "We should wait for him to come and then get him while he's distracted."

"No, no, no," James blurts out. "I'm sorry, you think we can take a Dark Lord?"

"We have Potter Family Magic," Euphemia scoffs. "Unless Voldemort is immortal he won't stand a chance."

"Um," Harry says.

"Never mind," Euphemia immediately switches tracks. "Harry, you still can't hold your occlumency shield, you're not going. James, be good for the Dark Lord okay?"

The letter that arrives is actually a portkey because of course Voldemort doesn't have enough time in a day to pick up his wayward stolen Heir. The other three Potter stand around nervously.

James lifts up his packed bag and holds the letter in one hand. "Voldemort's Manor," he says and the portkey activates.

Harry dives for it at the last second so Euphemia can't grab him and they both disappear.

Euphemia throws up her arms. "Can I not have one child that listens to me?!"

"Mum is going to be pissed," James laughs.

"I'll apologise to grandma later." Harry has his wand out, scanning the entrance room, also with a floo network and a warding circle for people to apparate into. There's no Voldemort, no snakes, not even a house elf.

"The Dark Lord doesn't really show up," James explains. "I'm only here for the rumours that start, for the overseas Light families that Voldemort is trying to recruit. I talked to him like three times total before."

Harry lowers his wand but doesn't put it away.

"Maybe we won't even see him," James offers. "But to be honest, he's not that bad. I haven't even been tortured yet."

"That's a very low bar to set, James."

The next day, James wanders the huge library with Harry following like a little duckling as always. And yes, James is aware it's more like a dragon guarding its nest but James likes the duckling metaphor because it reminds him he's a dad.

James passes the etiquette section and laughs.

"Did you have to learn that kind of thing?" Harry asks.

"Everyone does," James scoffs and slips into the aisle. "Wow, I think it might be literally the same books Potter Manor has. You see this?" James slaps the shelf in front of him filled with etiquette. "It's all trash. Most of it's history of why we do something, but you don't need context to actually do it. Short summary: there are three greetings."

James holds up three fingers and counts down. "Greeting an ally, greeting a stranger you hope to make your ally, and greeting a stranger. The last one is an insult, saying they're not good enough to be an ally."

"Are you sure you didn't skip a few books?" Harry muses.

"I didn't," James insists. "I used a spell to summarise it all and then compiled it further. Made cheat sheets and colour-coded family lines, everything." He pauses. "Well, the spell was actually ritual. It's Dark magic, but only because it uses blood."

"I'd still use it," Harry says immediately. "Imagine essays."

"I know!" James cries. "It's so much easier, right? I'm willing to sacrifice some blood – probably the same amount caused by the paper cut I'd get flipping through however many books I'd need to do it the normal way."

James gestures to the bottom of the shelf. "Dining etiquette is summarised into 'use the utensils outside-in'. The best thing about etiquette is that it's generally circular and keeps itself in check – for instance, no matter what family you go to, they always have the same amount of courses in the same order. So go outside-in, you can't go wrong."

"Even with history," Harry allows. "There is no way you need that many books."

"All the books are copies of each other, sometimes verbatim." James points out one near Harry. "Look, authored by a Goyle. You think a Goyle can write? The only reason you have these many books is because if you don't have a Yaxley one and a Yaxley comes over, they'll throw a fit."

James pulls out a massive, old leather book. "This book -human skin of course- is the 'sword in the stone' basically." James flips it open and shows Harry just a massive wall of text. "Written by an illiterate in an already bastardised Ye Old English, a single sentence stretching for over two pages, rubbish handwriting, repetitive reasoning-"

"Let me guess," Harry sighs. "Everyone has to read it to be considered educated."

James flashes a grin. "If you see this, ever, you are socially obligated to brag about how young your child was when they memorised it." James leans in. "When I was six, I memorised two of the most unintelligible sentences, and every time someone asked me a question I'd recite it aloud. I was lauded as a genius."

"So you're an expert in etiquette," Harry teases.

"Ain't no one better than me," James brags, shoving the book back in. "Stick with me, Harry, I'll get you gala-ready in no time."

James loops around the end of the shelf and passes the pureblood history section. "This is also garbage. Not because it isn't good to know, but because you don't need to read to hear all about a family's history. Come within a ten-meter radius of Lestrange, it's all 'my father is doing some-such political whatever' or 'my ancestor was Minister two centuries ago'."

James scoffs, diving back into the aisle. "Slytherins think they're so sly, skittering around collecting information and blackmail, but they don't know when to shut up with their bragging. I've been all over that castle, I can ruin people. They don't know half of what I've got."

James tosses a smirk over his shoulder. "I mean, if I really wanted to know what the Dark Lord was doing, I'd just ask that self-absorbed second year with the mum that's an inner circle Death Eater. Honestly, they're lucky I'm not a Slytherin."

Harry is staring with wide eyes. Over James' shoulder. James' smile drops off his face and he whips around.

Voldemort stands with a book in hand, leaning casually against the end of the shelf. "No, I'm quite certain you're meant for Gryffindor."

Harry tries to edge around James and push the boy behind him, away from Voldemort. "You must be our host."

Voldemort peers down at Harry and purses his lips. "Why is there two of you now?"

"He's my cousin," James chimes in.

Voldemort hums and doesn't seem to care all that much. "We'll be going to Sweden tomorrow, dress well."

Harry and James share a confused look.

"I didn't exactly pack dress robes," James says.

"Owl your family then," Voldemort dismisses and pushes off the shelf gracefully.

The two boys wait in silence as the Dark Lord leaves.

"Was he listening the whole time?" James whispers.

Harry grabs James and they race out of the library.